First Times' Folly
by romybook
Summary: If love was an obsession, Tom and Minerva would be two hearts in the hand of Cupid. First time he paid attention to her, he was holding her paper in his hands. First time he got jealous, she was with somebody else. First time he kissed her, she rejected him. First time she kissed him, she was crying. Until obsession became madness! Translation of Premières Fois by Bouyachaka.
1. Draw me, Miss!

For you, my sweet BouyAdé… I hope you'll enjoy this first chapter… And everyone else for that matter.

If you speak French and want to see the original version, go get to Bouyachaka's profile! She rocks, people!

...

**Lesson 1: Draw me, Miss!**

_First time he saw her… No. First time he paid attention to her, he was holding her paper in his hands._

…

The essay is good but not that brilliant. One detail though catches his attention. The margin is full of arabesques and curves: signs of the author's reflection and her distracted hand.

Immediately, the professor looks at the top of the parchment, searching for a name. Minerva. Minerva McGonagall. He tries the name on his tongue, remembering the face of this seventh year student. Since she is a girl as studious as quiet, Minerva has definitively not had the nerve to hand in her parchment in this condition. She has definitively not seen the damages.

He takes his quill, soaks it in his blood-red inkpot and scribbles an annotation:

"_Miss McGonagall, you do have a certain gift in drawing. However, allow me to have doubts about the efficiency of your quill against a ripper Goblin._"

…

He comes into the room, relaxed, his perpetual superior look stuck to his features. The students are buried in a silence he worships. Good! They know better than making anything which could upset their lunatic young teacher. After all, he is well-known for his cold and spectacular tantrums.

"Let's begin with the return of your papers."

A quaking of impatience goes all over the classroom.

"No need to say it's a disaster."

Hope turns to apprehension in the eyes of all the students.

As he is distributing the papers, dropping sometimes a few comment, the professor has to restrain himself to smile and laugh. They are just learning he is a merciless and ruthless grader. How gratifying it is!

When he arrives next to Minerva, he can't help but feel curious about her reaction. But it barely comes. A frown. Then a tiny smile. Nothing remarkable. Tom is almost disappointed…

…

He is intrigued. She intrigues him. Few days have passed since the essay and she intrigues him. She draws. All the time. She scribbles. She scrawls. She butchers the paper with the tip of her quill. He doesn't even know if she is listening. She is locked in her world and doesn't show anything to anyone.

She intrigues him. She annoys him. Worse, she gets on his nerves.

"Miss, would you like to hold me out your notes!"

She raises her head to look at the unbendable teacher. Without waiting, he tears the parchment from her hands. Eyes. Stars. Lines. It's almost frightening. There are few words, here and there. Her notes. From HIS course.

"Would you have the kindness to explain yourself?!"

He is flabbergasted. He doesn't understand a thing of her pointers. They cross each other. They go all over the paper. It's illegible and unreadable. Minerva doesn't say a word. She is just waiting to have her paper back. He finally gives it to her, really annoyed.

"You will give me the pleasure to bring back next week your notes, in correct form. I will wait for the first two chapters tonight."

She begins to open her mouth but he already stops her.

"Arguments and delays won't be tolerated. Or you'll get me the notes of last year too!"

She stares angrily.

…

"Sir"

Minerva is in front of him, holding out a bunch of parchments. Without a word, she puts them on his desk, then goes away.

He calls her back.

"Minerva!"

"Yes, professor?"

"You'll serve detention tomorrow evening for the next chapters."

He can see her shoulders tightening but she doesn't speak. She leaves the room in a deafening silence.

Tom falls back on his chair, full of thoughts. She hates him, that's obvious. But soon, she would fear him too… That statement doesn't satisfy him though. Nor rejoice him as it should be. Tired, he gives up his dark thoughts and catches hold of the first roll. His night is going to be so long…

…

"_Really nice picture of a werewolf. But allow me to underline that if you cross the path of one someday, he would munch you before you get the chance to sketch him._"

"_Minerva, I understand you like to draw. But flowers in a graph is… Too much!_"

"_A ton of hearts now… I'm disappointed."_

"_Miss, if you try that hard to find an interesting model, draw me!"_

"_Minerva… That eye was nothing but scary."_

"_Yes indeed, this dress would suit you perfectly. But change the color."_

When he finally let go of his quill, Tom runs his hand through his hair. The night has fallen a long time ago and he hasn't made any progress in his corrections. One sure is certain though, Minerva is going to go over her chapters again.

…

"Would you sit down please?"

Already tired of his obsequious tone, Minerva sits on her chair inelegantly. Tom smirks when he sees the obvious irritation of her student.

"Miss, I don't think you took your work seriously. I'm so obliged to ask you to do it all over again."

He is waiting impatiently for the outrage to show on the girl's face. But she doesn't even look up. As she takes out all her parchments, she just ignores him. Tom feels almost offended. So he gives back her stuff before walking to his desk.

"Sir?"

He freezes. She looks at him, insolent.

"How many time is going to last this little game of yours?"

He is astonished. Even more than that.

"I beg your pardon?!"

The voice is cold. Minerva, don't you dare insist! She seems to understand. She shuts her mouth, turns her gaze and grabs her quill. Tom doesn't exist anymore. She wipes him from her mind. So easily. So definitively.

He is almost knocked out. Disturbed, he finally goes back to his desk.

…

_I'm done, professor._

This sentence burns Minerva's tongue but she shuts up. She settles for looking at him. He is focused on his papers. She doesn't understand him. He is such a mystery. Minerva doesn't like it. Not one bit. This man is the definition of an oxymoron.

The remarks he left on her paper are entertaining and amusing. Yet he is cold and cutting. That doesn't sound right… Not at all. And that annoys her. Minerva doesn't like what's unclear.

"Have you finished?"

He has raised his eyes. He sees that she is watching him. He frowns.

"Yes."

"You can go, then."

He sends her off but doesn't lose eye contact. They look at each other. They stare at each other and Tom forgets who he is. But that doesn't last. So Minerva goes away, leaving him to her papers. He catches the first parchment and reads it.

"_Drawing you…Is that a challenge?"_

…

Some explanations:

As in canon, Tom is born in December, the 31st of 1926 and Minerva is born in October, the 4th of 1935. So they are nine years apart. The story begins when Minerva is in seventh grade at Hogwarts. In this story, Tom has gotten his teacher's job at Hogwarts he was desperate to have.

If you have any questions, we try to stick to the facts… The best we can!

Hope you'll enjoy to follow Tom and Minerva in their difficult path.

**Reviews will be received by both the author and the translator so you'll make two people happy with only one comment!**


	2. Be careful with this man: he burns!

**Lesson 2: Be careful with this man: he burns**

_First time he stopped thinking about her as a student, it wasn't for the good reasons…_

…

"_Drawing you…is that a challenge?_"

Tom smiles coldly. She provokes him. Should he answer? All the replies he has in mind – and believe-me, there were many of them – would be just a soft punishment. She deserves more, doesn't she? After all, she is playing a dangerous game. And without any rules. So logical she gets burnt.

Tom falls back on his chair. He is seduced by the idea. Of course, the girl is close to Dumbledore. Everybody knows it. It would be a short-sighted risk, especially because of his plan… He could jeopardize everything he is working for. He could even lose his job. But the opportunity is too good to miss it. He has never played such an interesting game.

Fucking the girl would be just a distraction waiting what would follow. He could get some fun, though. Moreover, Dumbledore trusts Minerva. With a good push, she could convince the Professor to take back his surveillance. What a great pleasure to get rid of the old man! Then, he could begin to work properly, seriously. Studying without the fear to be discovered. He could do so many things. Just because of that, it is worth it.

When his plan would be complete, he would get the hell out of Hogwarts. Right then, he would send the warm body of the girl back to the old fool. With his compliments, thank you very much. Nobody could make his life harder and getting away with it!

In the meantime, Minerva would be a doll in his hand, a toy between his fangs, a puppet useful in good time.

For now, he has a challenge to take up… Let's the game begin!

…

He puts down his quill, precisely one inch away from his parchment. To the left. The tip pointing out the door. But his hand shivers and the quill isn't straight. Annoyed, the teacher gives a sharp hit with his nail. Here it is. Perfect.

After one last look, Tom raises his eyes to the student in front of him.

"Would you like to be kind and give me an explanation, miss?"

He shows the note and Minerva frowns.

"With all the respect I owe you, it wasn't for you, professor."

Riddle looks at his desk, doubtful. Isn't his quill twisted after all?

"Really?" he encourages her absent-mindedly.

"Yes. I wrote it to professor Dumbledore."

Tom freezes, just for a bit. He looks at Minerva again, intrigued. He keeps on with a light-hearted tone, dishonestly focused on his quill.

"Dumbledore?"

Merlin! Minerva purses her lips, irritated. An interrogation, now?

"Yes." She answers, bluntly. "He gives me some books about Animagus, telling me I could become one. It is my answer and an essay about the difficulty to make the transformation."

Tom straightens up, as if it wasn't even interesting but he thinks quickly. So they were that close. Maybe his task would be much complicated. Taking her into his bed without the man to notice would require a perfect execution.

"I guess the reason why I get the note is because you were doing your essay during the detention?"

Minerva does him the favor to blush, obviously uncomfortable.

"The thing is… The work you gave me was already done."

"Why don't you tell me, then?"

Tom has the absurd urge to laugh but he carefully keeps a neutral face. The conversation has almost slipped out of his control… but he has just fixed it.

Since the witch keeps quiet, Tom sends her away with a last word:

"I see your detention didn't give you the opportunity to think about what you have done, so you'll give me back tonight all your essays from the last two years. Let's hope it will be enough to make you understand."

Minerva doesn't react, as usual. She just leaves in a cold silence.

…

"Riddle!"

The man stops, waiting for his _coworker_.

"Sir?"

"How are you, Riddle?"

This annoying jabbering, again. That's what he really hates about the old man. Well, he doesn't like anything about him anyway.

Yet his lips move into a nice smile.

"Very well, sir. Can I be of any help?"

Dumbledore gives him a quick glance but ignores deliberately the question.

"I guess you're going to eat?"

"You guess wrong."

Tom doesn't say anything else. He keeps walking, trying to lose Dumbledore. But the old man isn't born yesterday.

"Tom, I've heard you have… some issues with Miss McGonagall."

That's the way you want to play it? Very well.

"You shouldn't listen to hearsay. You're too naïve, sir."

He doesn't believe him, it's obvious.

"I know for a fact she has served detention with you for almost two weeks now."

"That's true, indeed."

"I don't judge the way you teach but she has to prepare her NEWTs. Don't you think you should…"

"Remove the sanction?"

"It would be a good thing."

"I think it's not an option."

And just like that, Tom dumps a thoughtful professor.

…

He is going to pay. She swears it to Merlin. He is gonna regret it. He won't go away with it.

Without a word, she follows her teacher. She hides her rage behind a mask of impassivity. She forces herself to keep calm. Short-breathed, she stops the killer words to slip away from her mouth.

Riddle watches the girl from the corner of his eye. The sweet taste of revenge. And just because he can and wants to do it: he takes large steps, forcing Minerva to speed up.

Way too soon, they arrive in front of his office. He stops, turning around brusquely. With his right hand, he opens the door, with his left one, he offers her to come in.

"Your broomstick."

The order is clear. The voice is categorical. He won't accept any act of disobedience. But Minerva doesn't move. She stands in front of him, emotionless. He sighs.

"Your broomstick, please."

She hates him. She hates him. She hates him. Automatically, she holds it out. She has to fight back her urge to throw it out in his face. She stays quiet despite the hatred which slowly consumes her.

For a bit, Tom enjoys the feeling of the wood under his fingers. He represses a satisfying smile, not that easily. After all, Dumbledore was right. Minerva has no time for futile pursuit, even less flying. She has to work. Period.

Tom stares the expressionless eyes of his student. She stays in front of him, useless. She doesn't react as she witnesses her own loss: her teacher stripping her for what makes her… the girl she is.

This action isn't only a revenge. Tom wants to see a sparkle in Minerva's eyes, he wants to see her make a move. Anything. That is why he's gonna take away everything from her. He wants to strip her metaphorically. When he will be done with her, she won't have nothing left. No drawing. No flying. No friends. All the things she's gonna show him, all the things that characterize her, he's gonna take them away. She will be nothing. She will be destroyed and finally, yes finally, he will taste her hatred, her disgust. Her eyes will shine with revolt but quickly, he will erase this spark forever.

Slowly, tenderly, she will yield under his hand. He will take his time because he like it. He doesn't want to ruin anything. He has to enjoy his own action. Taking away her bearings to be the only one for her. He will be everything: her god, her master, her guru. She will hold on him, desperately. Only then, he will betray her. Only then, he will kill her.

Badly. He will tarnish her. He will sully her. He will lure her with love promises but he will only fuck her with whole his hatred. She won't have a name anymore nor feelings, nor reason. Only the obscene thoughts he will put in her mind. Then, she will beg him to end her life and he will obey because he is a decent man. He will only snatch her last forces until she give her last breath. It will be fun, won't it? An exquisite punishment.

…

"Minnie!"

The girl doesn't even answer. What a … JERK!

"Minerva!"

She finally turns around to face his assailant, full of rage.

"Minnie?"

Her hand is already on her wand. But when she sees who is facing her, she slowly drops it.

"You come to practice?"

"No."

Her captain frowns.

"Why?"

"I don't have a broomstick anymore." She mumbles and before he gets the time to answer, she adds:

"Riddle took it from me."

McGain seems to be ready to yell and that's actually what he does.

"What! How is that even possible?! It won't happen, do you hear me? You can't deprive a team of its best Chaser, especially before the most important game of the season! No way! We're gonna talk to the Headmaster. Now."

"No."

"No?"

Technically, Tom is well within his rights. She should have served detention with him. She shouldn't have been on the Pitch. But, she wanted to. This ridicule business has to end…

But he doesn't want to. And now, his pride demands redress. His vengeance shall be swift and terrible! After all, this man burns.

…

**I hope you like it, people. Let's give a big "Bravo" to BouyAdé!**


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